By Dalia Acosta
CAJIO, Cuba, Aug 21 2004 (IPS)

The statue of chief Cajío standing with arms crossed and head held high must face the sea to live up to its mission: protecting this fishing village in southern Cuba.

The local community’s livelihood has traditionally come from the sea. But so has death.

“When the statue has been turned away from the sea, catastrophe has struck. That happened in 1926 and 1944, when the town was destroyed by tropical storms. The 1944 hurricane brought such a huge surge that the sea literally swept away the village,” said Orlando Orihuela, a local historian.

He also pointed out that in 1966, when a car crashed into the statue, knocking it down, a storm immediately hit the village, followed by a fire that burnt it down, to the very last house. “Maybe it’s a coincidence. Maybe not,” Orihuela remarked to IPS.

Now, the residents of this village on Cuba’s southern coast, which took its name from the indigenous chief, stare at the statue, which is still standing, without a scratch, and just shake their heads.

Once again, a tropical storm – Hurricane Charley – destroyed the village, leaving only a few houses standing as it began to make it way across Cuba last week. It also took the local community’s most venerable legend with it.

Charley hit this Caribbean island nation at a point between Cajío and Guanimar beaches, south of Havana, in the wee hours of the morning on Aug. 13. Besides the violent winds of more than 200 km per hour, the storm surges caused severe flooding.

It took Charley just two hours to cross the island on its way north, where it wreaked havoc in the province of Havana, home to around three million of Cuba’s 11.2 million people.

The government reported that four people died and four were injured, while more than 40,000 housing units were damaged and around 1,000 were completely destroyed – including almost all of the houses in Cajío.

Over 200,000 people had been evacuated before the storm hit, as part of the government’s emergency preparedness measures.

“When I saw the water keep rising and rising, I realised I couldn’t stay in my house. So I grabbed the dog and swam with her over the fence, which is nearly three metres tall,” Héctor Carmenate told IPS.

All of the local residents had already been evacuated, except for Carmenate and his brother, the only two people left in the town of Cajío. A third man, who also stayed behind to try to save his house, had bicycled away as fast as he could pedal an hour earlier.

“At around 11:00 at night (on Aug. 12), I heard on the radio that the storm was bringing waves that were three to four metres high. So I got on my bike and didn’t stop till I reached my family’s house, 14 km away,” said Carmenate.

When he came back, he found his house damaged, but still standing. Even the pig was still alive in its pigsty. Some residents have dubbed it “the survivor”.

“No one is going to eat that animal. It’ll die of old age,” Carmenate swore.

No one knows how high the water rose. But the remains of what must have been a fishing boat or coast guard vessel were found around three km from the village, on the road. Only the sea could have carried the boat that far.

The 14-km stretch between Cajío and Güira de Melena, the main town in the municipality of that name, presents a desolate landscape of trees torn up by the roots and toppled power lines.

The air no longer smells of growing things and the sea. Instead there is a stench of rotting animals, and not even the ever-present turkey vultures have returned yet.

The impact of entering Cajío is even worse. For those visiting for the first time, it is hard to believe they are already in the village. Where around 250 houses that were home to more than 300 families were standing just a few days ago, today there are only ruins. Only a handful of homes survived.

Nothing is left of the quaint fishing village landscape that for 25 years has drawn participants in one of Cuba’s oldest art contests.

Where a house used to stand, only a battered refrigerator is left.

“It’s all just mud. We lost everything. We don’t even have a mattress, or clothes, or anything. We are sleeping on the bare metal bedstead,” said Marina Castel, one of the “lucky” ones whose small wooden house is damaged but still standing.

“At night, without a fan or electricity, the mosquitoes just devour you,” she added.

There is no electricity or water. People sift through the ruins for anything they can find, to try to patch up what is left of their houses. Others scavenge what they can, and head off to an emergency refuge or to the homes of friends or relatives.

No one protests. People walk around dazed and stunned, without knowing what to do or how to react.

“The sensation of loss is huge,” said Mariela Méndez, a psychologist who grew up in Cajío but has lived and worked in Havana for the past 20 years. “Nothing can ease the pain of arriving and seeing it all just gone.”

As soon as she heard that the road had been cleared, Méndez came to the village, where her younger sister and several friends still live.

“Cajío is always evacuated when a cyclone is coming in. People take their things out, to Güira, or store them up high to keep them from being damaged by flooding. But this time everything happened so fast, and the sea just covered the village,” she said.

The losses – houses, mattresses, home appliances – have been inventoried, and belongings will be replaced by Cuba’s socialist government. The estimate of the damages is still pending.

A special government committee has already been set up, “and the funds and resources have been assigned to completely rebuild the village,” Julio Días, the head of the local “defence council”, which operates in times of disaster, told IPS.

The government proposed moving the village to a safer spot, but most of the local residents are opposed to the idea. “They will rebuild their houses on the foundations of their old homes. They’re picking up the rubble now,” said Días.

Cajío is one of Cuba’s oldest towns. According to Orihuela, the first reference to a human settlement in this area dates back to November 1560. Six years later, the village had become a trading post and supply point for Spanish ships.

“The local community’s collective memory and oral tradition are rich in knowledge about marine species, the construction of small fishing boats, and the local surroundings,” said the historian.

The community has always depended on fishing for a living, and would not know what to do if the village were moved elsewhere.

Although many people were forced to leave town during the severe economic crisis of the 1990s, others came from far away to occupy the empty homes, and the local customs, history and legend have been passed from generation to generation, and to each new neighbour.

Chief Cajío disappeared after the death of his wife, Sibanacán. Since then, it is said that he is everywhere, protecting the village and the shore.

But this time he failed. “I trusted him, and didn’t take anything with me (when I left). But I lost everything,” said another local resident.

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